


All Our Past Sorrow Redeeming

by Tabithian



Series: Soft as the Starlight in the Sky [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magical Girls, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 08:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4739687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a lot of buzz going around about the new Costume in Gotham, reported sightings all over the place but no clear photos to show for it just yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Our Past Sorrow Redeeming

**Author's Note:**

> I got a prompt from themandylion on tumblr asking for Magical Red Hood transformation sequence, and then I threw in some of the things [dragonlove1, themandylion, and I](http://tabithian.tumblr.com/post/126937327634/fic-the-long-and-winding-road) threw [back and forth](http://archiveofourown.org/comments/36676899), plus the second to last prompt on [this post](http://tabithian.tumblr.com/post/128441831304/here-have-some-aus-as-if-there-arent-enough-on), because reasons.
> 
>  
> 
> Takes place just before the events in [Every Night the Same Encore.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4394246)

There's a lot of buzz going around about the new Costume in Gotham, reported sightings all over the place but no clear photos to show for it just yet.

Tim pauses by the little office set aside for the resident sketch artist, knocks on the door frame and waits a beat before poking his head in. 

“Hey, Callahan,” Tim asks, mouth curving as she looks up, pens suck in her hair, glasses slightly askew. “You mind if I keep your latest sketch?”

She frowns at him, tilts her head in a way that highlights the line of ink along the bridge of her nose, graphite smudge on her jaw. “Why?”

Tim shrugs, gestures at the page hanging on her wall. “I've got a friend who thinks he saw the guy, this might help.”

The sketch has been scanned and sent out to other law enforcement offices and agencies, news outlets all over Gotham and a a few beyond. Tim could get his hands on one of those, but - 

Ruby's eyes narrow behind her glasses, mouth twisting. “You know, Drake, there's not a lot I can do with what these people have been giving me.”

Tim knows that, and he also knows every single one of them had told Ruby and the involved officers her sketch was one hundred percent dead on.

“Callahan,” Tim says. “You're the reason we catch most of these guys in the first place. You know I respect that.”

Ruby tucks a loose curl behind her ear. “Like I didn't hear you assholes laughing yourself sick over the damn thing.”

A pause.

“Ruby, this is Gotham. Do you really think there isn't somewhere out there running around looking like that?”

She sighs, waves a hand at Tim. 

“Point to you, Drake,” she says. 

Tim laughs, careful as he takes the ketch down. “You always do the best work, Ruby.”

She looks at him.

“I mean it,” Tim says. “You know that, right?”

She gets a lot of crap from everyone when a new costume shows up, conflicting eyewitness accounts and not a lot to work off of that's actually helpful, but.

“Shut up, Drake.”

*********

Tim's home has become something of a vigilante way station over the years, or maybe a a halfway house, would be a better way to put it.

Point is, he doesn't bother locking his windows anymore. Just relies on whatever new toy Dick or Steph will bring by, if he doesn't cobble something together himself.

Makes a game of it, adding new tricks to his security system for the others to play with when they drop in for a visit or even just a hello on a slow night of patrol.

So Tim doesn't startle when he hears footsteps behind him while he's working on finishing up reports. Just looks up at the glass-front cabinets over his kitchen sink placed just so they manage to catch a faint reflection of the hallway leading into the kitchen.

Feels his mouth twitch when he sees Jason in his new suit. 

“What the hell is that?”

Tim blinks, follows Jason's gaze to his refrigerator, and the lovely artwork stuck to it with little Nightwing and Robin magnets, courtesy of Dick and Steph. He'll get a frame for it tomorrow, maybe. 

Sometime this week, when he has the time, but for now, this will do nicely.

“Oh, that?” he asks, can't help the smirk. “Police sketch of the new guy running around town.”

He can feel Jason's confusion, exasperation, little touch of irritation.

“I don't - “ 

Jason growls, low in his throat and looks at Tim.

“I don't fucking look like that!”

Tim looks at the sketch, and back at Jason. Tilts his head, squints a little.

“You kind of do, though,” Tim says, holds his hands up like he's framing a shot. “I mean, yeah, a little less satin, but. The bows.”

He carefully doesn't mention the pink because that's a surprisingly touchy subject. Not for the color itself, but the fact that Jason's having a hard time of it getting criminals taking him seriously. (Strangely, enough, he doesn't mention the bows when he goes off on that rant, which. Tim doesn't know.)

“You're still a little shit.”

Tim shrugs, doesn't bother denying the truth.

Watches Mr. Meowface trot out from behind Jason, ears going forward when he sees what the commotion is all about. Looks up at Jason with an undeniably smug air about him.

“Oh you can just shut the hell up right now, you little asshole,” Jason snaps, glaring down at him. “If you could maybe, I don't know, be a little more forthcoming with how the hell my new powers work, that would be great. Just saying.”

Mr. Meowface sniffs, goes right over to Tim.

Tim watches with an amused smile as Mr. Meowface jumps up on the table and walks over to look at what Tim's working on, tail brushing his arm as he sits. Pats the screen and tilts his head at Tim in silent inquiry.

“I'm finishing up stuff for Bruce,” Tim says, clicks a window that brings up a blurry, grainy photo of Jason facing more of the shadow guys someone had managed to grab. 

Nothing for Ruby to work with, too many shadows and the picture itself had been taken on a low-quality phone, but it's just one more thing to add to the growing file on Jason. (Bites back the things he wants to say, _has_ said about what he thinks of Jason not telling the others.)

“Tim,” Jason sighs, dropping into the chair across from him. “I'm going to tell them, okay? I mean, I know I'm being a bastard about this, but.”

Jason shakes his head, does the mechanisms to the hood and pulls it off, setting it on the table. “I just. How the hell am I supposed to do this?”

Tim.

“There's no good way, you know?” Jason says, running a hand through his hair, damp with sweat and and flat on one side. “They've been trying to catch me for months now. Jesus, did I ever tell you what happened with Dick?”

He hadn't, no, but Tim had heard all about it from Dick. Had spent a restless night keeping watch over him because he'd had a mild concussion going into his fight with Jason from an earlier altercation, but Jason doesn't need to know that.

“Dick brought it up,” Tim says, makes a face at the look Jason gives him. “He wasn't thinking straight when he went after you.”

Because.

_”He burned them up, Timmy, just. Burned them to ash and I couldn't do anything.”_

Dick's horror at that, and gripping Tim's arm tight, telling him not to go after him, no matter what, and Tim staring at Dick because - 

“He's a goddamn moron,” Jason sighs. “Just. So stupid.”

“You forgot hypocrite,” Tim says. Rubs at his chest because Jason's not wrong, _this family_.

Jason laughs, so tired, and looks at Tim.

“That, too.”

(Dick's not the only one.)

********

This is what comes of having a partner who is more than a little overprotective and a...something...who is Gotham's equivalent of Sailor Moon.

Probably, Tim's a little distracted after getting a faceful of magical glitter.

“Tim! Are you okay?”

Tim throws a hand out, holds tight when he touches fabric, _pulls_. “Stay down,” he manages, keeps his eyes closed. “Dick, stay down.”

Dick puts an arm around his shoulder, pulls Tim behind what little cover they have, nerves running high, but Tim still has a tight grip on his sleeve.

“I have to - “

“No,” Tim says, turns to face Dick even though he can't really see that well, colorful blurs and streaks of light, a few steps up from Jason's previous tricks. “We'd just get in the way.”

Tim would, for certain. 

He'd caught the brunt of one of Jason's magical glitter bombs when the things he was fighting has called up a gust of air, biting cold, seeded with wickedly sharp ice to deflect it. Knows Dick had gotten caught up in it too, to a lesser degree.

Dick might be able to hold his own for a while, but Tim remembers that night at the museum and the icy burn wherever Jason's shadow-guys manage to touch him.

This isn't something they can handle on their own right now. Maybe, possibly, if they were better equipped, but as it is - 

Jason's out there somewhere fighting a horde of the shadow guys and the new lizard-things that spit some kind of corrosive acid while Tim tries to keep Dick from running after them.

Tim was supposed to be meeting Jason to exchange information about what's going on in Gotham, to help pacify both Bruce and Commissioner Gordon. And then Dick had gotten wind of it, and tagged along.

Then Jason had showed up, gone stiff, wary when he saw Dick.

So of course, of course, that was when the shadow guys popped up along with these dog-sized lizard things, and everything just sort of went to hell after that.

“Tim.”

Tim blinks, trying to get the worst of the magical glitter out. Better than what Jason was using before this, but it still stings, leaves a weird little tingling sensation behind that sets Tim's teeth on edge.

He knows Jason was just trying to keep them out of this, keep them from following, but really. Tim hates the stupid things.

“He'll be _fine_ ,” Tim says, not sure who he's trying to convince anymore.

Dick _hmms_ , arm tightening around Tim's shoulders.

********

“You know,” Tim says. “I don't think I've ever seen you do your magical girl transformation.”

Jason groans, pained, and tips his head back to look up at Tim. “It's not – God, you're such a little shit.”

Tim smiles, tired, and tugs gently on Jason's hair.

“Dick was worried,” Tim says as he walks around the couch, takes a seat on the coffee table facing it. “I had a hard time trying to convince him not to go after you.”

Jason grunts, leans forward to cup Tim's face in his hands. 

“You okay? I know you got hit with the damn glitter.” Jason winces, thumb wiping away more of the shimmering residue under Tim's eye.

“I'm fine,” Tim says, wrapping his fingers around one of Jason's wrists. “Everything checked out okay, I'm fine.”

Jason sighs, turns his arm so he's the one holding onto Tim and pulls, just enough to get Tim moving, sliding off the coffee table and onto the couch beside Jason.

“You're all such idiots, I don't even know how you're all still alive.”

Tim laughs, soft little huff of laughter even as something in his chest twinges, sharp, _because_.

“We're too stubborn to stay down for long,” he says, looks up to see Mr. Meowface watching them from his perch on on the bookshelf.

Stubborn, and luckier than they'll ever know.

********

Tim isn't hiding in the kitchen at Wayne manor so much as he's - 

“Master Timothy?”

“Ah,” Tim says, resists the sudden urge to scuff his foot the way he would have when he was younger, and strung tight like this. “Hey, Alfred.”

Alfred raises an eyebrow, and Tim can't help the reflexive quirk of his mouth because he learned that from Alfred, didn't he. Bruce too, come to think of it.

“I was just, uh.” Tim shrugs. “Things were getting a little heated out there.”

Alfred's lips thin. “So I was given to understand from Master Bruce.”

Tim.

It's not a wince, but.

“They're getting along better?”

His parents aren't making subtle threats of taking legal action against Bruce, at least. And there's the fact that Bruce doesn't have that look in his eye that's more Batman than Gotham socialite anymore.

No, now they're down the thinly veiled insults and biting sarcasm. Things that can't be proved in court, all down to personal interpretation, and Tim.

He's more than a little tired of it.

Glad, on so many levels his parents are alive, yes. God, yes. But this. No, this is not something he wants to deal with, and something he can't run away from forever.

Alfred sighs, amusement creeping into his eyes. 

“Perhaps you would like to help me in here, then? Lunch will be served soon, after all.”

And this, this is why Alfred is Tim's favorite.

********

“Okay, you little shit, you wanted to see this.”

Tim winces, trying to pull Bruce to something resembling cover. “I maybe should have been more specific? I mean, really.”

Jason laughs, strained as he helps Tim move Bruce's bulk. “Oh my God, shut up.”

It's. 

More or less the museum fiasco from a few months back, only this time they're at a Wayne Enterprises charity event. Masquerade, of course, because that's exactly what Gotham needs more of.

Jason had come dressed as Batman this time, smirking in Bruce's face when he just happened to cross paths with him. Tim furiously texting Dick and Steph, anyone he could think of to hurry up already, being fashionably late wasn't good for his blood pressure under these circumstances

“Hood - “

Jason pulls his crystal wand from somewhere, twirling it in his fingers, as he turns to Tim.

“Stay down. Be safe. Don't be stupid.”

Tim looks at him helplessly. He's a cop, and even if he wasn't, he's a Bat. (In spirit, if nothing else.)

“Christ, just. Don't do anything Dick would do, and we're good, okay?”

There's a furious howl from one of the lizard-things, and Jason's up and moving. Steps aside as Mr. Meowface scurries past him to fetch up against Bruce's side.

“Hey,” Tim says.

Mr. Meowface looks him over, and seems to relax when he sees Tim isn't hurt. Turns his attention to Jason, and Tim follows suit. 

Watches Jason tug the cowl and cape of his costume store Batsuit down, wand held out in front of him.

Jason's standing with his back to them, so Tim can't see his face, read his lips over the eerie howling of the lizard-things or the harsh shriek of the unnatural icy winds cutting through the ballroom. Can't hear what he says, the incantation that draws his magic forth.

What he can see is the faint golden glow that starts from the ground at Jason's feet, edged with pink and white and glimmering. It rises slowly, warm wind slicing through the bitter cold of the shadow-guys, melting the ice swirling around them.

There's a faint noise, just under the howling winds and shrieking creatures, like chimes, or bells, some kind of melody Tim can't quite make out.

Bruce shifts, pained, and Tim rests a hand on his shoulder, looks away from Jason for a moment, but Bruce is still out of it, bruise already forming at his temple.

Mr. Meowface hisses, jerking Tim's attention back to Jason, the dark figures circling him. Held at bay for the moment as streamers of ribbon form out of the glimmer surrounding Jason, spinning and twining together to form a cocoon around Jason, that swells to the edge of the light around him before snapping inwards, contracting around him like a string drawn tight.

He feels the pinprick pain of Mr. Meowface's claws and breathes out, not even realizes he's been holding his breath. Glances down at the cat who looks back, unimpressed as always.

“Sorry,” Tim murmurs, not sure what he's apologizing for.

Looks back to see a a spark of flame erupt from the top of the cocoon that seems to fall in on itself, smoldering, the cocoon burning down like paper. Bright, glowing edges that curl and flake away in the wind, burning white light at center that flares blindingly for a moment before fading to reveal Jason, bows and all.

“Wow.”

“Shut it!” Jason calls back, somehow able to hear over all the noise. 

Tim laughs, can't help but to laugh, and curls over Bruce to offer what protection he can while Jason launches himself at the shadow-guys and the lizard-things.

********

“Hey,” Tim says, tosses his jacket over the back of the couch.

He's exhausted dealing with the aftermath of the disastrous charity event, and Bruce and his concerns about Tim's. Well, Tim and the odd relationship he seems to have formed with Jason's alter ego, which.

Tim doesn't know, anymore, really. 

He understands Jason's position, even if he thinks it's stupid and more than a little horrible – he has experience in this – he does, just.

It's so stupidly typical of this family, really.

“Hey, yourself,” Jason says, from his slump on Tim's couch. 

Tim just looks at him for a long moment, takes in the glitter trapped in Jason's hair, which has naturally managed to get everywhere. The fresh cuts and bruises on his face, neck, and wonders what new one are hidden by Jason's clothes.

“Everyone okay?” Jason asks, sitting upright. 

Tim nods, takes what's coming to be his customary seat on the coffee table across from Jason, _looks_ at him.

“Everyone's fine. Bruce has a hard head, and no one had anything worse than a few scrapes, some light bruising.”

Jason eyes him, and Tim holds his hands up to show a few small cuts covered by brightly covered band-aids thanks to Steph. And probably Dick, now that Tim thinks about it.

“That's the worst of it, I promise.”

There's a companionable sort of silence between them, for a bit.

“You have glitter,” Tim says, waves a hand at Jason's hair, and then sort of gives up because Jason has magical glitter all over. “Everywhere.”

Jason laughs, mouth turning up in a crooked little smile. “Same goes for you.”

Tim sighs, drops his head forward and watches magical glitter rain down on his carpet, both of their feet.

“I'm never going to get that out of the carpeting, you know.”

Jason laughs, leans forward to ruffle Tim's hair, jerking his hand back when Tim swats at him, both of them laughing helplessly. 

********

“Okay, look,” Dick starts, lays out file folders and appropriates Tim's laptop. “There's something I need to know.”

Tim blinks, lowers his gun.

“Dick, it's - ” Tim says. Pauses because he has no idea what time it is. “What time is it?”

Dick flaps a dismissive hand at Tim, and enters another password only to get the error message.

He's in the Nightwing suit, cold air curling past Tim because Dick forgot to close the window again, and - 

“Did you change the password again?”

Tim looks at him, puts the safety of his gun on and tucks it into the waistband of his sleep pants. “I change it because one of you is always trying to steal it from me when you stop by,” Tim grumbles.

It's not his fault if they don't upgrade their personal laptops until someone (Tim, usually) has to do it for them. He tinkers as a nervous habit, and with these idiots in his life, that means he tinkers pretty much constantly.

He ignores Dick's wounded look at that, and takes the laptop from him long enough to enter the correct password and enter the code that will stop a special program Tim wrote from wiping the hard drive.

“That's a new trick,” Dick says, looking at Tim.

Tim shrugs. “Precautions.”

Paranoia, really, instilled in him at a young age thanks to Bruce and the others, but it's worked for them so far, so why change things now?

Dick huffs, elbows Tim out of the way and links up to Barbara's network, or really, one of them. Taps into her cameras and a few that belong to the city.

“See here?” Dick says, and points to where Jason's standing on a rooftop, back to the camera and - 

“Dick - “

“No, no,” Dick says, shaking Tim's shoulder. “Just look okay.”

Tim looks, sees Jason, and himself. 

Knows Mr. Meowface is lurking somewhere just out of frame because Tim remembers this from a few nights ago. 

Tim meeting with Jason who had a warning to pass on about the lizard-things, information he wanted to get to Bruce and the others. 

“Look at his suit here,” Dick says, and pulls a security still from one of the folders and holds it up next to the screen. “Now look at it here. Notice anything?”

“More bows?” Tim says, which is true. But.

Dick sighs, sets that photo down and pulls out several more to spread over Tim's coffee table. Closes the window on the laptop and brings up two more, pausing the playback.

The photos are all from a fight Jason had a couple of weeks back down by the docks. The lighting's terrible, more shapes and blurs than anything else, but there are a few that show Jason clearly enough to make out a few details.

Dick raises his eyebrows and he gestures to the open windows on the laptop.

Jason and Tim in a warehouse, Mr. Meowface perched on Jason's shoulder and Tim remembers that too. Remembers chasing down a lead, just looking for clues, and running into some of Jason's shadow-guys, Jason showing up not too long afterward to tear through them ruthlessly.

“What about now?”

Definitely more bows, and -

More revealing than Jason's usual suit – or the one Tim thinks of as his usual suit, to be sure. 

“I know, right?” Dick says, sharing a look with Tim. “Weird how we kept getting calls about street harassment after he showed up.”

And finding the worst offenders tied up in front of the precinct with video or audio proof of their crimes, yeah.

So weird.

“Good muscle tone,” Dick muses absently.

“Dick.”

Dick looks at Tim, eyebrow raised. “What? I can't appreciate it when another guy has good muscle tone?”

Tim.

Dick grins, no, no that's definitely a smirk. 

Smug, a little too pleased with himself.

“You're impossible.”

“Well, yeah,” Dick says. “But you see it, right? This guy. His suit changes.”

Tim could argue it, say maybe he just has multiple suits, but like he knows what Tim's thinking, Dick clicks the play button on the second window he has pulled up on the laptop.

There's no sound, but it's not really necessary.

Tim watches himself standing on yet another roof, sees Jason walk into frame, his suit... _shifting_ when he stops in front of Tim.

Forming and reforming, slow, subtle, bows budding here and there, blooming like flowers. Little touches of what looks like lace, maybe, peeking out from the cuffs of his sleeves, at his throat.

“I never noticed,” Tim says, because. 

Something like that, he should have. _Anyone_ should have. 

“Magic?” Dick offers, just as confused as Tim.

“I guess?”

“Hey,” Dick says, lets the video play, eyes narrowing when Jason moves well into Tim's personal space. “Isn't this guy's power supposed to be love?”

Tim doesn't do something so obvious as freeze up, not with Dick pressed against his side like this, but.

“I thought that was a rumor?”

Except that for all the conflicting reports about Jason's alter ego, that's been a constant.

“Tim.”

Tim slides a look at Dick, who.

There's.

The smile on his face is tinged with sadness, _because_.

Jason, and the hole he left in all of their lives, but Tim's in particular. 

“I just need to know,” Dick says, and his voice goes soft, understanding and gently teasing. “Do I need to have a talk with this guy?”

********

There's no real need to do this anymore, Tim knows, but it's become so much part of his routine he knows it's going to take some time to stop.

He sweeps away dust and wind-fallen leaves from the base of the tombstone with his hand and sets the flowers, nothing more than scraggly little weeds growing along the road down. ( _“People always spending so goddamn much money on the stupid things when you can get them for free, and it's not like whoever they're meant for is going to know the difference or give a shit.”_ )

“Christ, you're kind of fucked up.”

Tim snorts a laugh, looks over to where Jason's watching him, expression unreadable, Mr. Meowface nowhere to be seen.

“You knew that going in.”

Jason scrubs a hand over his face and mutters something Tim doesn't quite catch, and with Jason's hands in the way Tim can't read his lips. 

Intentional, most likely.

“This goddamn family,” Jason says, drops his hands and looks at Tim. “You do this a lot?”

Tim shrugs, tips his head down, eyes going to the engraving on the tombstone. “Enough.” 

Wonders if Jason's here because he managed to get his hands on the footage Bruce must have of this, Tim's weekly visits to Jason's grave. The talks he has, telling Jason about his life that week, the good and the bad. 

Venting his frustrations with Bruce and the others, or Tim's parents. 

His job. 

_Life_.

Or, and this is more likely, Jason's just been following him again the way he's been doing on and off since the night Tim confronted him all those months ago. 

Tim smiles, looks up at Jason. 

He's not wearing his suit now, which might have made this easier, or maybe that's just an excuse, Tim doesn't know.

What he does know is that Jason's watching him, and there's. It looks like something sad in his eyes, something like regret.

There are so many between them, things they never said, or did, and for whatever reason they have a second chance.

Tim looks at Jason, and walks over to him, smiling a little because Jason's here, now. Not an empty grave for Tim to pour his heart out to, but _Jason_.

“Hey, you want to hear about my week?”

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. For an idea of what the police sketch mentioned looks like there's [this beautiful tag on Tumblr.](https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/batman-in-a-dress)


End file.
